Entwined
by csiAngel
Summary: Hints of GC & NS. The team wonders whether their paths would still have crossed if they had made different career choices Chapters 5 & 6 up now! COMPLETE!
1. Chapter One

Title: Entwined  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the CSI characters or premise. TPTB do  
  
Important stuff to note before reading: The time setting for this piece is after "Playing With Fire" but before "Inside the Box", so the events of that ep and season four have not happened.  
  
Chapter One  
  
"I'd be a security guard," they heard Nick say as they entered the break room to find Greg, Warrick and Nick lounging on the sofas.  
  
"No work to do boys?" Catherine smiled as she dropped herself wearily into the seat beside Warrick.  
  
"We've been waiting for you guys. Shift's over, wondered if you fancied breakfast," Warrick responded.  
  
"Sounds good," Catherine replied whilst rolling her neck to remove the tension from her muscles. She jumped slightly when she felt Warrick's hand touch her neck and start to massage it gently, but firmly. She sighed contentedly and smiled to her saviour. Grissom watched, his eyes tinged with sadness, as he sat down at the table. He opened the file he had with him, and forced himself to lower his eyes and not dwell on what he seemed to be losing.  
  
"Hey, what were you guys talking about when we came in?" Sara called from her seat opposite Grissom at the table.  
  
Greg's eyes lit up at Sara's interest in a conversation that had been initiated by him. "I was asking what these guys imagined they would be doing if they weren't CSIs," he explained with a proud smile.  
  
Sara looked to Nick, seemingly surprised. "A security guard?"  
  
"Yes. What's wrong with that? I think I'd make a great security guard," Nick said, his voice soft and feigning hurt.  
  
"You would sweetie," Catherine assured him in a tone one would use to a child, as she smiled teasingly. "So, Warrick, what was your answer?" she asked.  
  
"I'd be a cop... I know it's not much different, but it's what I always thought I would do," he shrugged. "It is not as boring as Greg's though – "  
  
"Hey! Mine's not boring! It's my dream to be a CSI! And I'd be much better than you lot!" In response to the glares that this comment acquired him, he quickly added, "Well, I'd at least be nicer to the lab techs!" When the glares didn't subside, he briefly considered running back to the DNA lab, as he normally did, but, as he didn't have any work to attend to, he decided he would instead try to redirect their attention. "So what would you three be?" he asked, hopeful that they would take the bait.  
  
"I wouldn't be anything else," Grissom and Sara said simultaneously. This broke Catherine from the relaxed state that her massage had taken her to, and her eyes shot open to look at Grissom. She saw Sara's eyes widen, and her grin at him smugly, then allowed herself a private smile when Grissom just shrugged and looked back to his file.  
  
"Okay, so they win the award for the least imagination," Nick laughed. "Catherine?"  
  
"Well, it seems I'm the only one who wouldn't be in some sort of law enforcement – " she began, only to be cut off by Greg.  
  
"Do you think you'd still be a dancer?" he smiled excitedly, his imagination obviously in overdrive.  
  
Grissom looked up at Catherine, concern, and also surprise, creasing his features. "Really? You'd still be dancing?" he asked, a hint of disappointment creeping into his voice.  
  
Catherine was shocked by this unexpected contribution from a man who normally just frowned and didn't pay much attention to their non-work related conversations. As a result there was a split second of hesitation before she responded.  
  
"I... I didn't say that... I think I would be a hotel manager, or something like that. I always fancied that line of work when I was little. I used to pretend our house was a hotel, and I made my parents check in and out whenever they were going anywhere. Real life kinda took me in a different direction though," she smiled.  
  
"Hotel management, eh?" Warrick nodded approvingly.  
  
"You'd be good at it," Grissom smiled, letting his eyes meet Catherine's. He knew it was a dangerous move to make, he knew he could easily get lost there, and that would make it so much worse when his world came crashing down, but he allowed himself that moment. For a memory.  
  
She smiled her beautiful, bright smile back to him. "Why, thank you. And I think you'd make an excellent CSI." This was better. This was more like the friendship they used to have before they began to drift apart. She didn't know who had started it, but she did know that they both perpetuated it. They had allowed themselves to back away from each other. She knew her reasons, and suspected his, but anger had got the better of her logic and she found herself believing that he didn't want her to know. He didn't care about her enough to tell her, so why should she care. Deep down she knew he was scared, but too much time had passed, and during it, too many things had been said, to just pretend it never happened. But this was a good sign. This felt right. This felt like the beginning of the future.  
  
"Do you think our paths would still have crossed?" Sara asked quickly, hoping to break the moment that Grissom and Catherine were enjoying.  
  
"You mean like we were destined to meet? And no matter what we chose to do, we would still have encountered each other?" Greg asked confidently, the concept of their lives being somehow cosmically entwined seemingly not new to him.  
  
"Do you believe in all that stuff, Greggo?" Warrick said in disbelief.  
  
"I've read a few articles and things about it. I wouldn't say I believe in it, but I wouldn't say I don't," Greg replied defensively.  
  
"I think it's an interesting idea," Sara commented thoughtfully. "I wonder if we would have met if things had gone differently."  
  
"Well, seeing as you and Grissom would have followed the same path as you did, it's probably safe to say that you would have met," Catherine said, a touch coldly. "But, if the rest of us had taken different paths, would we know each other now?"  
  
TBC... 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
"Johnny, Greg, you've got a DB in the alley behind the French Palace... Sara, Emily, attempted robbery and assault at the Tangiers," Gil Grissom explained as he handed the case files to his team.  
  
"What about you?" Sara Sidle asked, knowing that the rest of the team were wondering the same thing. Grissom had been staying in the lab more and more recently. In fact, for a week, he had only been out in the field once, and that was only because Greg's case had required his knowledge as an entomologist. They were all concerned by his behaviour, but knew he would find it inappropriate for any of them to ask.  
  
"I've got a lot of paperwork to do. If I start now, I might finish this century." He accompanied his excuse with a small smile, but, to a room full of CSIs, trained to be observant, he was obviously lying. There was something going on, and they were all helpless. They could tell he needed someone to talk to, but they knew it wasn't going to be them. Grissom kept his private life private. They knew very little about him. Even Sara, who had known him the longest wasn't privy to his innermost thoughts and feelings. Maybe that's what the problem was. Perhaps he was lonely. Living alone, no real friends that they knew of. They had tried to get him to open up in the past but weren't successful. They didn't know what else they could do so they left him to it. They couldn't help him if he wouldn't let them.  
  
"Is Grissom okay?" Emily Gordon asked Sara as she drove the tahoe to the Tangiers. Emily was a young woman of twenty-five years old, who always wore her shoulder-length, blonde hair in two plaits either side of her head, making her look even younger than she was. She had only been at the Las Vegas crime lab for five weeks, but she too had noted that Grissom's behaviour had got progressively more unusual.  
  
Sara looked to her partner and considered how to respond. She knew Grissom wasn't okay but she didn't know what it was that was driving him to avoid everyone. She had tried to talk to him. Just a few days ago she had invited him out to dinner hoping to get him to open up to her but he had turned her down. No excuse, no explanation, just a 'no'. It hurt. It affirmed that he didn't share her feelings, but, if she was honest with herself, she had known that all along. But she had at least expected him to let her in. They had known each other for a long time, she thought, of all the people he could choose, it would be her that he turned to.  
  
"Sara?" Emily prompted in response to Sara's pensive silence.  
  
"Yeah?" Sara stumbled out, snapping out of her daze.  
  
"You know something... Is he okay? What's going on?" Emily reeled her questions off one after the other without so much as a breath in between.  
  
Sara shook her head. "I don't know anything," she sighed, turning to look out of the window and watch the Las Vegas world pass by.

"I was walking past the office, I heard noises from inside so I opened the door. Somebody ran at me... That's all I remember," the hotel manager explained to Captain Jim Brass as he questioned her about the incident.  
  
"Do you remember anything about your attacker at all? Any distinguishing features?"  
  
She thought about it for a moment. "He was male, I would say, from the force behind the impact. He was maybe a foot taller than me. He was wearing generic black clothes and a black mask. I couldn't tell you what he looked like," she told him, her disappointment at not being able to give him any more information evident in her tone and expression.  
  
"It's okay," Brass smiled. "Hopefully our crime scene investigators will be able to find some physical evidence of who he was... One of them will have to – "  
  
"Process me. I know," she smiled back. "I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Brass walked away from the strawberry blonde woman to talk to one of the hotel's security guards, a young Texan man who continuously looked, worriedly, at his manager throughout Jim's questioning. Whilst at first, Brass thought this was quite suspicious, he soon realised that the man, Mr Nicholas Stokes, was angry at himself that he hadn't been there to protect her, and catch whoever did it, and that he was concerned about her condition. Brass assured him that she was fine, and eventually managed to hold his attention to find out what he had seen.  
  
Meanwhile, the manager looked around the foyer. There were officers, staff and guests scattered around; tape holding back onlookers. She had gone into the hotel industry thinking it would be a safer option than her previous job as a dancer. An exotic dancer at one of the off-strip clubs. A room full of drunken men, wanting to see more than the tiny pieces of material allowed to be revealed, could get violent and, many a time, she'd had to wear extra make-up to hide scratches or bruises left by men trying to kiss her. Their bruises were, of course, worse though. At least twice a week, bouncers had to prise men off her, she'd had a broken rib and twisted ankle from trying to escape the grip of an out of control observer, and once she'd been pinned up against the wall outside the club by a pervert who was now doing time with a face long scar to remind him why.  
  
After the attack her husband had demanded that she get a different job. Up until that point he had never objected to her line of work. He prided himself on having such a sexy wife. He would watch her dance whenever he could, it turning him on even more to know that, of all the men in that room, drooling over, and fantasising about, her he was the one who she was going home with. He got to have her.  
  
She had been considering going to college, maybe doing a degree, but they needed the money, so she took an old family friend up on an offer of a job. Sam Braun owned several hotels and casinos, and had known her since she was born. When he had found out his "Mugs", as he called her, was in Vegas, he had offered her a choice of jobs, but she insisted she was going to find her own way. Seven years had passed since then though, and she now knew that pride was not a good reason to pass up a safe career opportunity. She did lay down some ground rules though, and began working as a waitress, wanting to work her way up on her own merit. She threatened Sam that if she got so much of an inkling that he was giving her preferential treatment, he wouldn't see her for dust.  
  
Now, seventeen years later, she was established and happy in her role as nightshift manager at the Tangiers. The husband had been lost along the way, her change in career not pleasing him as much as he had thought it would. He didn't appreciate her new, fully-clothed lifestyle, and decided to find satisfaction elsewhere. Something she had been unfortunate enough to see for herself, when she returned home to find him in their bed with another woman. After recovering from the hurt she realised she, and her five year old daughter, were better off without him.  
  
Six months ago her ex-husband had been killed in an incident which also almost claimed the life of their daughter. The case was never fully solved, although she was told that they believed they had the killer in jail, but were unable to actually convict him/her of that crime.  
  
She had disliked her encounter with law enforcement, and crime scene investigators, then, and wasn't particularly impressed to have to go through it again. But she knew it was necessary and wasn't about to be unco-operative. She just hoped she didn't get the same CSI who handled that case. The two of them had got off on the wrong foot, and maybe some things had been said that shouldn't have been. The CSI was doing her job, just not as quickly as she would have liked. She may have presumed to tell her to get her ass in gear, and that hadn't gone down well. Whilst she did feel bad, she wasn't about to apologise. She had been grieving, and the CSI seemed to have taken an instant dislike to her. She didn't know why, there just seemed to be annoyance in her attitude. Perhaps in some former life she had offended the CSI in some way. Maybe stolen her man?  
  
She didn't fully understand why that thought had occurred to her. She'd never really believed in past lives, soul mates, destiny and stuff like that. She didn't have time to explore where the thought had come from though, because she noticed two women in CSI jackets had entered the hotel. She recognised one of them.  
  
The other, a petite blonde woman, with a genuine sympathetic, comforting smile on her face approached her, whilst the one she knew, headed for the office with Brass.  
  
"Hi! I'm Emily Gordon. I'm from the Crime Lab," she introduced herself.  
  
"Catherine Willows," the manager smiled.  
  
"Ms Willows – " Emily began.  
  
"Catherine," she repeated firmly. "I've been Ms Willowsed enough for one day. It's making me feel old." She laughed slightly, but cringed when that action caused a shooting pain in the cut above her eye.  
  
"Should we go somewhere more private?" Emily asked softly.  
  
"I'd say let's go to my office, but... it's a crime scene," Catherine said, "So, erm, we can use the day shift manager's office."  
  
TBC... 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three  
  
Crime Lab – Next Day  
  
"Grissom!" Sara called to her boss who was walking just ahead of her in the crime lab corridor. He stopped and turned round.  
  
"Do you remember that murder a couple of months ago? – "  
  
"Be specific, Sara," Grissom interrupted before she had chance to explain which murder she was referring to.  
  
"If you give me chance... A woman, she used to be a dancer at the French Palace, about twenty years ago – "  
  
"I remember," Grissom nodded. "Is there a point?" he said, abruptly.  
  
Sara was silenced by her shock. Grissom saw her face drop and the hurt in her eyes, and he felt his hostile attitude melt.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said softly, and honestly.  
  
"Grissom, if you want to talk about it, maybe I can help – "  
  
"It's not something you can help with... Just preoccupy my mind with the case," he smiled.  
  
Reluctantly Sara convinced herself to do as he said. "Well, the Loughlin lab have been in touch. They have a case with the same MO, and the vic used to dance at the French Palace."  
  
"Do they have a suspect?"  
  
"No, but they found evidence that he'd been watching her for a while before he killed her. Emily's looking through both cases now... But, the case from yesterday, at the Tangiers, the manager who was assaulted used to dance at the French Palace... co-incidence? Maybe, but I just thought it could be relevant to the other case."  
  
"Interview her," Grissom said.  
  
"She's on her way in," Sara smiled, pleased that she'd already thought of that. "I was just wondering if you could join me. Emily's really busy and – "  
  
Grissom frowned, sure that he was missing something, but unable to figure out what it was. "You'll be okay."  
  
At Sara's look of uncertainty he continued. "Sara, what aren't you telling me?"  
  
Sara hesitated for a second. "We've met before... She and I... Six months ago... We didn't exactly get on."  
  
"You don't have to get on, Sara. It's work. Be professional, "Grissom said seriously with a shrug. Then he turned from her and resumed his route towards the exit.  
  
For a moment Sara stood still where she was as she forced her anger to dissipate. She didn't want to get angry with Grissom for his behaviour, but her patience was wearing thin.  
  
Catherine approached the entrance to the police station, obviously over- joyed to be back here. She reached the door at the same time as a man wearing a Crime Lab ID badge, and she quickly hoped that he was there to interview her instead of Miss Sidle, the one who had investigated her ex- husband's death.  
  
The man seemed somewhat pre-occupied, but he still stepped back and held the door open for Catherine to enter. He gave her a small smile when she said thank you, and she smiled back, beautifully.  
  
"Cath!"  
  
The shout came from behind her just as she was about to step inside. She turned to see Nick Stokes, one of her security guards, running across the car park.  
  
She rolled her eyes - he could be so over-protective sometimes – and turned to the man who was still holding the door. "You might as well go in, thanks anyway," she smiled, and he nodded before walking into the building.  
  
Turning back, Nick had just reached her. "Nick, what are you doing here?"  
  
"I heard they had asked you to come in. Is everything okay? Are you alright?"  
  
Catherine laughed a little. "Nick, I'm fine. You really need to stop worrying about me so much. I can take care of myself, you know."  
  
"I know that. But I can't, so I have to make sure you'll always be around to advise me and stuff."  
  
Catherine smiled. "You're such a charmer. It's a wonder you're still single."  
  
Nick grumbled at her about bringing up that sad fact about his love life as the two of them walked into the station.  
  
Nick accompanied her to the interview, and she was glad, because Sara Sidle was there, and the police Captain she had spoken to yesterday seemed more than happy to allow the CSI to ask all the questions. Catherine wondered if he noticed the tone that Sara was using, or if it was just her imagination that she was being interrogated as if she was a suspect in her own assault.  
  
"And do you know of anyone who may have a grudge against you, or any of the other women who have danced at the French Palace?" Miss Sidle asked.  
  
Catherine frowned. "There are a lot of men and women who I might have angered when I was a dancer. The only one I remember the name of is Mike Waters, he ended up in prison with a scar courtesy of my finger nail down his left cheek," she replied, unable to prevent the smile of pride from sneaking onto her face.  
  
Sara's eyes narrowed a little, almost as if she was angry that Catherine hadn't been able to give her a more useful answer. Although, even Catherine realised that Mike Waters would be out by now, and could very well be seeking revenge.  
  
"Anyone else?" Sara asked.  
  
In the corner of her eye, Catherine noticed that Nick was frowning. Obviously it wasn't her imagination. He had noticed the attitude as well.  
  
"Not that I can think of," Catherine replied calmly, not letting her opponent know that she was getting to her.  
  
Brass asked the next question, stepping in as, apparently, he finally realised that Sara was having trouble keeping her personal feelings from the past out of the interview. "Had any of the other dancers had any run- ins with Mike Waters?" he asked.  
  
"One or two that I know of. More, probably. I had seen him in the club several times before the night he attacked me," Catherine explained.  
  
"Would you be able to give us the names of those women?"  
  
"Sure," Catherine nodded.  
  
As she gave the names to Brass, she noticed that Nick and Sara were exchanging smiles.  
  
Sara's expression had softened immediately when she realised why Brass had cut in, and she had been sitting staring at the table, silently hoping that maybe no-one else had noticed her unprofessional behaviour. But Nick's eyes caught hers and she realised it hadn't gone unnoticed.  
  
Nick saw the worry, and knew that she was sorry, and he smiled understandingly, trying to make her feel better.  
  
Catherine inwardly laughed to herself. It didn't matter where Nick was, he always found someone to flirt with.  
  
"Now do you see what I mean about her?" Catherine exclaimed as she and Nick headed for the exit.  
  
"She was okay. Maybe she's just stressed out about something?" Nick said, defending Sara.  
  
Catherine grinned. "I knew it! You fancy her!..." She laughed, shaking her head. "I can't take you anywhere."  
  
"Well, she's cute!" Nick smiled.  
  
They reached the doors, both laughing, when Brass's voice shouted to Catherine.  
  
"Ms Willows?"  
  
Catherine stopped, cringing at the formality of that address, and turned round.  
  
"There's been a development," Brass said.  
  
"That was quick," Nick commented.  
  
"A body was found behind the French Palace yesterday. My colleagues have just identified it as Tessa Mills."  
  
Catherine's face turned white. That was one of the names on the list she had given to Brass.  
  
"Cath? You okay?" Nick asked.  
  
"Tessa worked at the French Palace when I did. Mike Waters wouldn't leave her alone the night before he attacked me," she explained quietly, feeling nauseous at the thought that Tessa was dead.  
  
"Whether it is Mike Waters or not," Brass said, "You might be in danger. I would advise that you don't go home, and you don't go to the hotel. We can offer you police protection if you like – "  
  
"No," Catherine insisted. "I'll be fine... I have to go home to get my daughter... I'll take her to my sister's then I'll stay at a friend's house or something."  
  
"You can stay with me," Nick offered. "And I'll go with you to Nancy's." Seeing that she was about to protest, he added: "No argument!"  
  
Catherine yielded and nodded slowly. "Okay. Thanks."  
  
Brass also nodded with relief. "We'll be in touch if we have any more news."  
  
He turned and walked away, a spiky-haired young man approaching him, and falling into step with him as he walked down the corridor.  
  
Catherine and Nick turned back to the door, and silently moved to go outside. A man reached the door as they did, and he held it open for them. Catherine glanced up as they walked through and smiled when she recognised him from earlier.  
  
"We have to stop meeting like this," she joked.  
  
The man laughed slightly, his eyes sparkling as he did so. He followed them through the door, and they headed their separate ways to their cars.  
  
TBC... 


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four  
  
"So, Sara," Greg said cheerfully, at the start of next shift, as he slipped out of the break room just as Sara was walking past. "I hear you and I are working the same case."  
  
"Possibly," Sara said, continuing to walk along the corridor. Greg followed her.  
  
"Sounds like we probably are," he said seriously. "Your vic could have disturbed the murderer when he was preparing to lie in wait for her. Did you get anything from the office?"  
  
"A couple of fingerprints. I'm still waiting for the results," Sara replied monotonously.  
  
"That's more than we got from the French Palace... Warrick and Johnny have gone to talk to the manager. He was on vacation in Hawaii – "  
  
"They've gone to Hawaii?" Sara asked, in disbelief.  
  
Greg frowned at her. "Do you think I would have stayed behind?!... He's coming back early... Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine," Sara said, unconvincingly.  
  
"Sara, you've got to stop worrying about Grissom. He can look after himself... If he needs your help, he'll ask for it. He knows you're there if he needs you," Greg said seriously.  
  
Sara stopped and turned to face him. "I'm not worrying about Grissom – " she protested, the look in her eyes giving away the fact that she was lying.  
  
"Oh," Greg said, "So you have another reason for being so moody, then?" He smirked, and Sara couldn't help but smile. She lowered her head so he wouldn't see her, but he did.  
  
"How do you do that?" she said, blushing and feigning anger.  
  
Greg put his arm round her shoulders and resumed their walk along the corridor. "You're like an open book, Miss Sidle... An open book."  
  
Nick had, reluctantly, gone out to the store to get him and his guest some food, leaving Catherine on her own. He had insisted that they could order take out for delivery, but Catherine convinced him that she would be fine for an hour or so, and it would give them a break from each other. The cheeky smile on her face as she had said that showed him that she meant that part as a joke.  
  
She had drifted off to sleep about five minutes after Nick left, but was woken twenty minutes later by a noise outside. She sat up on the sofa, eyes wide and attentive. She listened intently but didn't hear anything else. Then the light from a passing car cast a shadow across the window. Distinctly the shadow of a person. She instinctively jumped up and stood flat against the wall beside the door. From there she could watch the door and windows.  
  
The silence was eerie, with the only sound being the steady hum of the refrigerator coming from the kitchen. She could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest, and every breath she released shook as her lips trembled. Now was probably a little late to come this realisation, but she thought she should probably take the whole situation more seriously.  
  
She had taken Lindsey to Nancy's, and she had gone to stay with Nick, but she still hadn't accepted the threat as a reality. She figured the police would catch whoever was behind the murders, and she'd be at home with her daughter in the next day or so.  
  
She had never actually thought that her life was in danger. Until now.  
  
She could feel herself panicking, and she knew she needed to calm down and think straight. Taking deep breaths she considered her options. She could run. Open the front door and make a run for it. But what if he was outside and she never made it past the threshold? And if she did make it out, where would she go? It was late at night, Nick's neighbours probably wouldn't answer the door at this time.  
  
Ruling out that option, she looked around the room. Seeing the phone just a few feet away she glanced at the door, glanced at the window, listened for any other sound at all, and decided she could make it.  
  
She grabbed the phone and returned to her position by the door. Frantically dialling 911, tears began to burn her eyes. She swallowed hard, trying to push back her fear. The voice of the operator made the whole thing more real. She was put through to the police, and explained the situation as well as she could. She was just finishing up when there was a loud knock at the door. It actually hurt as she jumped, suppressing her scream, and dropping the phone.  
  
"Ms Willows, LVPD," a male voice said from outside.  
  
Catherine remained still. It couldn't be the police so quickly, could it?  
  
The voice didn't say anything else, but she could hear a faint female voice, and remembered her call was still connected. Picking up the phone, she quietly told the woman that she was still there, then her entire body shook with relief as she was told that the police had been watching the house and those officers had been informed of her situation. She thanked the woman, and disconnected the call. Then, as the police knocked on the door again, she looked through the peep hole and asked them for their ID. Satisfied they were for real, she opened the door.  
  
"Warrick Brown," the tallest of the two men introduced himself. "Are you okay?"  
  
Catherine nodded shakily, the tears escaping down her cheeks betraying that.  
  
Warrick smiled understandingly and led her into the house. He sat down beside her on the sofa, and motioned to his partner to get her a glass of water.  
  
Giving her a few minutes to calm down, he started his questioning after she turned to him and smiled sheepishly.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said.  
  
Warrick shook his head. "It's a natural reaction... Can you tell me what happened?"  
  
Catherine took a sip of the water, then placed the glass on the table.  
  
"I must have fallen asleep. I woke up when I heard a noise outside, then I saw the shadow of a man move past the window... Didn't you see him? I thought you were watching the house?"  
  
"We were," Warrick explained. "We didn't see anything. The first thing we knew of your distress was when we were told you'd called 911."  
  
"I didn't imagine it," Catherine said defensively.  
  
"We're not saying you did," Warrick assured her honestly.  
  
Catherine nodded and apologised once more.  
  
"There's no need to be sorry... Our crime scene investigators are on the way, they'll process the outside of the house, see if we can find any evidence of who was out there."  
  
Catherine nodded again, finding it was the only thing she could manage to do.  
  
Half an hour later, Nick panicked instantly as he pulled up outside his house to see crime scene tape around it, and crime scene investigators crawling along his yard. He leapt out of the car, leaving the food inside, and the vehicle unlocked, and ran up the path. An officer stopped him at the tape.  
  
"This is a crime scene, Sir," the young man said forcefully.  
  
"That's my house," Nick said quickly. "Where's Catherine?"  
  
The officer looked to Warrick Brown for permission to let him through, and Warrick nodded. Nick moved under the tape as the officer lifted it for him, and he made his way straight to Warrick.  
  
"Where's Cath? What happened?"  
  
"Ms Willows is fine," Warrick explained. "There was someone outside the house. She called the police. She's inside now."  
  
Nick sighed with relief. "I knew I shouldn't have left her."  
  
"She said she insisted you go. I imagine she's hard to argue with," Warrick smiled assuringly.  
  
Nick laughed a little. "Yeah. Can I go in?"  
  
Warrick nodded so Nick made his way into the house. He found Catherine sitting on the sofa. She looked up when he walked in.  
  
"Hey," she smiled nervously.  
  
"Hey," he smiled back. "Did you have some peace without me here?"  
  
Catherine laughed and looked down. "Okay, you were right."  
  
"What?" Nick said, pretending he couldn't hear her.  
  
She looked up directly into his eyes. "You were right." Her smile quivered a little as Nick sat down beside her, and she spoke quietly and seriously. "No matter what I say, don't ever leave me alone here again."  
  
Nick nodded and enveloped her in a hug.  
  
"This guy's good," Greg said to Emily as they drove back to the lab from Nick Stokes' house. "Warrick and Matt didn't see anything, but all those footprints indicated someone was there."  
  
Emily nodded. "They're not going to be much use to us either unless Johnny and Sara have come up with anything."  
  
After finding the connection between their two cases, Greg, Johnny, Sara and Emily were now working the evidence together. Johnny and Sara had stayed at the lab when the call came in for this. Johnny was processing the evidence from the murder of Tessa Mills and, to avoid seeing Catherine again, Sara was looking at the evidence from the office at the Tangiers.  
  
"Yeah, this guy's probably getting more and more infuriated with Catherine because she keeps foiling all his plans," Greg offered.  
  
"They'll put her in police protection now," Emily said. "And I get the feeling she won't be turning it down this time."  
  
TBC... 


	5. Chapter Five

Spoilers: Inside the Box

Dedication: To the Graveyard Shift - _the_ place to be for G/C!

Chapter Five  
  
It was his night off, but Grissom was sitting in his office. Files and textbooks were open on the desk in front of him, but the supervisor's mind was elsewhere. He had been looking around the office for five minutes, his memory wandering over the time he had spent here, at the Las Vegas Crime Lab. For over two decades this job had been his life, but now he faced losing it all. As his hearing faded out once more, he turned his chair around and looked at the remaining wall of the office; the pictures hanging there; the books, well-worn, read and re-read. One picture caught his eye – a team photograph taken on Emily's first day. He pursed his lips as he looked at it, considering his options. He could carry on hoping that the problem would go away – knowing that ultimately he would lose his hearing completely. Or he could admit he needed help, and have the surgery.  
  
He didn't notice Sara step into his office. She stood in the doorway and said his name several times when she didn't receive a response the first time.  
  
"Grissom, tell me what's wrong? I can help... Let me?" she said quietly.  
  
When he still ignored her, she sighed angrily and slammed the office door shut as she left.  
  
Grissom faintly heard the bang of the door, and felt the vibration as it closed. He turned to see what had caused it, frowning, puzzled, when there was no-one there.

* * *

"There you are!" Greg exclaimed, walking into the break room where Sara was pouring herself a cup of coffee. "I've been looking everywhere for you."  
  
Sara turned to look at him. "You should have looked harder."  
  
Greg raised his eyebrows. "Still in a good mood I see?" he commented sarcastically.  
  
"I tried talking to Grissom and he just completely ignored me," Sara said, a slight sulk surfacing on her face.  
  
"You should have took my advice."  
  
Sara glared at him harshly.  
  
"Anyway," he continued quickly. "We don't have time for this... We got a match on the DNA from the hairs found on Tessa Mills. James Marriott. Record for assault in 2000, and cousin of - drum roll please – Mike Waters."  
  
Sara's eyes widened. "So it's not Mike Waters?"  
  
Greg shook his head. "But he could be behind it... Brass has gone for Waters, Warrick's gone for Marriott."

* * *

Warrick watched through the one-way glass as James Marriott and his lawyer were shown into the adjoining room, and took their seats at the table. Greg joined Warrick and the two of them made their way into the interview room.  
  
Warrick sat down opposite Marriott, and Greg sat beside him.  
  
"Are you and your cousin close?" Warrick began the interview.  
  
Marriott frowned. "What kinda question is that?"  
  
"A simple one. Your cousin, Mike Waters, are the two of you close?"  
  
Marriott's lawyer cut in. "I don't think – "  
  
Her client cut her off. "It's okay... Mike and I grew up together. I guess you could say we're close."  
  
"Must have hit you hard when Mike got sent to prison?"  
  
James shrugged. "I wasn't impressed, but then, he shouldn't have attacked that Cat."  
  
"Cat?"  
  
"That was her name, wasn't it? The one who left him with the scar? Catherine Willows."  
  
"You remember her?"  
  
"Of course. Was all her fault."  
  
"But, like you say, he shouldn't have attacked her. So isn't it his fault?"  
  
"She provoked him," the suspect stated plainly.  
  
"Were you there?" Warrick asked.  
  
He shook his head.  
  
"Then how do you come to that conclusion?"  
  
The other man gave a short laugh. "She was a stripper!"  
  
"She was a dancer," Warrick said, defensively.  
  
"Pot-ay-to, pot-ah-to," he said. "An exotic dancer. Those tiny outfits intentionally leave little to the imagination. Gyrating their bodies in front of you, seductive smiles, lustful eyes... They're asking for it."  
  
"Asking for what?"  
  
James raised an eyebrow as he again silenced his lawyer, before turning back to Warrick. "You know!"  
  
"Asking to be mudered?" Warrick questioned, watching his suspect's face carefully for his reaction.  
  
James remained silent. His face unchanging.  
  
"Like Tessa Mills, Janey Heller and Liana Franklin? Were they asking to be murdered?"  
  
He still didn't respond.  
  
"Okay," Warrick said. "What about Catherine Willows? Does she deserve to die?"  
  
"Do you have any evidence that links my client with any of these crimes?" the lawyer spoke up. "I suggest you start a relevant line of questioning."  
  
Sitting back, casually, in his chair, James smirked at Warrick.  
  
"We have DNA evidence that places you at the murder of Tessa Mills... Can you explain why you were there?"  
  
The suspect shrugged again. "I've been to the French Palace... And I've been in the alley behind the French Palace... If you know what I mean," he smirked.  
  
"Several of your hairs were found on the victim. Can you explain that?"  
  
He looked thoughtful for a moment then said, "Nope."

* * *

Brass was in another interview room with Mike Waters and Sara.  
  
"James has always been obsessed with Catherine Willows. He used to tell me, every week when he came to visit me, that he would 'sort her out' if I wanted him to."  
  
"And did you want him to?" Brass asked.  
  
"No... I was drunk, I tried it on, I deserved everything I got."  
  
Brass raised an eyebrow. "How very understanding."  
  
"I've done my time. I realised what I did wrong... I didn't ask James to try to kill anyone."  
  
"You think he did it?"  
  
"I think it's possible... He wouldn't drop the subject. Even when I got out he kept going on about her. After a couple of years I finally managed to shut him up. Then about eighteen months ago he saw Ms Willows on TV. Something about the hotel she works at, and he flipped. Said she had no right being successful in life after she ruined mine. I calmed him down, but he became obsessed again. I've been trying to avoid him ever since. I've got a new life now. I'm married, got a kid about to start school. I'm happy... Six months ago he turns up drunk at my new address, asking me if I was sure I didn't want Ms Willows to pay. I sobered him up and sent him home. Haven't seen him since."  
  
"Why would he go after the other women?"  
  
Mike shrugged. "I don't know. The guy's gone crazy... When we were younger he was always the sensible one... But these last few years, it's like I don't even know him... And there's been lots of times I've wished I didn't."  
  
Both Brass and Sara felt that he was telling the truth. He didn't look or sound like he was lying.  
  
"So you never wanted Catherine Willows to pay for what she did to you?"  
  
"At first I did... But it was nearly twenty years ago. I've grown out of it. Like I said, I deserved it."

* * *

Greg had taken imprints of both of James's feet to confirm his shoe size. To his surprise, he discovered that the shoes James was wearing were a match to the footprints found outside Nick Stokes' house – not only in terms of size, but also make, and tread.  
  
"Can you explain how your footprints appeared outside the house of Mr Nicholas Stokes?" Warrick asked.  
  
"I don't know any Nick Stokes."  
  
"Exactly... So what were your shoe prints doing all over his yard?"  
  
James's lawyer opened her mouth to speak, but her client raised his hand to signal for her to keep quiet.  
  
"I'm sure there are other people with shoes like mine. They weren't the only pair ever made."  
  
"Does your cousin have a pair like that?"  
  
Marriott's eyes widened with worry. "I don't think so."  
  
Warrick turned briefly to Greg. "Actually we've got him in custody, we could find out."  
  
Greg nodded in agreement.  
  
"What you brought in Mike for?" James asked quickly.  
  
Warrick turned back to him. "Well, Ms Willows was staying with Mr Stokes when she saw someone outside the house. That's when we found the footprints. So maybe Mike was there. Trying to get revenge on her for sending him to prison?"  
  
James shook his head frantically. "Mike wasn't there! It wasn't Mike. You've got to let him go!"  
  
"How do you know it wasn't Mike?"  
  
"Because it was me! I wasn't trying to kill her. I just wanted to scare her! It was all just a warning!"  
  
"All?" Warrick asked.  
  
Any attempt by James's lawyer was cut off, as he was determined he was going to tell the truth to make sure Mike didn't end up in prison again.  
  
"I wanted her to know that I could do it! That if I wanted to I could make her pay for what she did to Mike and me."  
  
"What did she do to you?"  
  
"She split us apart! Mike's been brainwashed while he was in prison! He can't see that she deserves to suffer like he did! I kept trying to make him remember, but he just got angry at me and tried to cut me out of his life!... It's all her fault!... I wasn't going to kill her. I just wanted her to think I was! I wanted her to live in fear!"  
  
"So why did you kill the other women?"  
  
"So she would know I could."

* * *

It was over. Warrick Brown had called and said that they had arrested Mike Waters' cousin for the murders and for stalking and attacking her. Two officers were driving Catherine to the station where she would just need to sign a few forms and then she could go back to her house, and her daughter.  
  
Her body was flooded with relief as she sat in the back of the car watching the sights pass by. As they pulled into the car park of the station she saw police officers rushing out, and others coming in, handcuffed suspects being dragged with them, and she noticed the man from the crime lab, the one who always held open the doors for her, sitting on a wall, seemingly lost in his thoughts, looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.  
  
The car came to a stop and the officers escorted her into the building. Half an hour later, they had asked if she would like them to call anyone to come and collect her, but she assured them she would be fine now that James Marriott was locked up, she would get a cab.  
  
She walked out of the building, into the cool early morning air, and took a deep breath, something she had felt unable to do since this all began. Taking another couple of breaths, and just enjoying the feeling of freedom, she began to cross the car park. She was almost to the road when a man approached her.  
  
"Ms Willows?" he asked from behind her.  
  
She turned and jumped back when she recognised the scar on his cheek.  
  
"Don't come any closer!" she instructed, stepping away from him.  
  
"Please, I just want to apologise for my cousin. I had nothing to do with it... I'm sorry for what I did to you back then, James just couldn't accept that. I'm really sorry."  
  
From his seat on the wall, Grissom had seen Catherine's reaction when the man approached her. He ran across the car park towards them, ignoring the fact that his hearing was fading again.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked as he reached them.  
  
Catherine turned to him, and smiled when she saw who it was.  
  
"I just wanted to apologise," Mike Waters said to Grissom.  
  
"When you were imprisoned for assaulting her, perhaps, night time, when the lady is alone, is not the best time to decide to apologise," Grissom said.  
  
Mike nodded. "I'm sorry... For everything," he said to Catherine, then he walked away.  
  
Grissom once more asked Catherine if she was alright, and she assured him she was. Then a look of realisation came over her eyes. "You're the CSI who handled that case," she smiled. "Grissom, isn't it?"  
  
Grissom nodded. "You remember after all those years?"  
  
"Sure I do," she grinned. "Still a CSI?"  
  
"Yep..." he replied, but she detected a hint of uncertainty in his voice.  
  
"You don't sound so sure."  
  
"It's complicated," he said quietly.  
  
"Ah," she said, nodding. "Well, thanks for helping me out there... If I can repay the favour..." she trailed off when she noticed a look of panic had swept Grissom's face and he seemed to be concentrating intently on her lips.  
  
She frowned, then, remembering something he had told her about his mother when he had been working her assault case, she asked: "Can you hear me?"  
  
Grissom looked surprised that she had noticed, and he shook his head slowly. "I'd better go," he said, turning away from her.  
  
She watched him for a second then felt an overwhelming compulsion to stop him. She ran after him, and touched his arm. He jumped slightly, but turned round.  
  
"Sorry," she signed, causing him to look surprised again. "If you need someone to talk to, I've got a few hours before my daughter'll be awake for me to pick her up."  
  
Grissom looked unsure, so she continued signing. "And, selfishly, I could do with the company. I've been stuck in a safe house since yesterday morning with an officer who would only speak to ask me if I needed anything."  
  
She smiled reassuringly, and he found himself not wanting to resist. "Okay," he signed to her. "Thank you."  
  
Across the car park, Sara had just come out of the station. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she saw Grissom walking to his car. She was about to run over to him when she realised he was with Catherine. She watched them, her heart aching, as they both got into his car and they drove away. She sighed, finally allowing herself to listen to the voice in her head that was telling her to get over him.  
  
As she walked towards her car, a familiar Texan voice interrupted her thoughts. "Hey, is Catherine still in there?"  
  
Sara looked up to see Nick Stokes standing before her. She shook her head. "No. She left already."  
  
"Ah," Nick nodded. "Well I'll catch up with her later... Thanks." He turned to walk away, then turned back. "Are you okay?"  
  
Sara gave a small smile. "I'll get there."  
  
Nick smiled sympathetically. "Coffee can help with that. You wanna get some?"  
  
"I'm working," Sara said. "But, maybe some other time?" she asked hopefully.  
  
"Definitely," Nick grinned.

* * *

Grissom had found that talking to Catherine was incredibly helpful. In a couple of hours, he felt like he'd known her for years, and she had managed to convince to him to call and schedule his surgery while she was with him. They had given him an appointment for two days time, and so now here he was, sitting on a hospital bed, swinging his legs back and forth like a nervous child, as a nurse took his blood pressure.  
  
As she finished, she told him they were preparing the room for him, and that someone would come for him in a couple of minutes. He nodded his thanks, and then was left alone. Butterflies were beating round his stomach, he felt sick with anxiety, but he kept trying to take steady breaths, reminding himself that this was what needed to be done.  
  
He was brought out of his meditation when a voice came from the doorway.  
  
"Hey!" it said.  
  
He looked round. It was Catherine. "What are you doing here?"  
  
She smiled that smile that he had already grown to love, and answered in her melodious voice. "I wanted to see you... And I didn't want you to go in without wishing you good luck."  
  
Grissom gave a short smile, and stood up, walking over to the door as a nurse walked up behind Catherine with a wheelchair. He glanced briefly at the nurse then returned his attention to his visitor.  
  
"Thank you," he said, quietly, his vulnerability showing in his voice and his face. "For being here."  
  
She smiled again and wrapped her arms around him, the hug giving him all the encouragement and courage he needed. As they stepped apart, she conveyed her support to him through her eyes and smile, and he took a deep breath and turned to the nurse.  
  
"I don't need that," he stated.  
  
Catherine laughed a little, and turned, watching him as he walked bravely down the corridor. She smiled to herself. All those years ago she never imagined she would ever see the young, kind, gentle CSI who dealt with her after she was assaulted again, and now here she was watching him walk away from her in a backless hospital robe.  
  
Perhaps there was such a thing as destiny.  
  
TBC...

A/N: Didn't want to mention this at the beginning in case anyone guessed what was going to happen: This scene at the hospital contains actual dialogue from "Inside the Box". This was written by the show's writers, not by me, I simply borrowed it for my purposes.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six  
  
The whole team had been silent for a few minutes as they all considered the different paths their lives could have taken, then Warrick snapped them out of their thoughts.  
  
"Anyway, I'm starving. Where we going for breakfast?"  
  
"Usual place?" Sara suggested, and everyone else agreed.  
  
They began to file out of the break room. Catherine was about to leave when she noticed Grissom wasn't following her. Turning back into the otherwise empty room, she watched him sitting at the table reading the file in front of him.  
  
"Are you coming?" she asked.  
  
He shook his head. "I have some things to do."  
  
Catherine nodded. Lately that was the response she had come to expect. "Okay... See you later," she smiled.  
  
Grissom nodded and she turned to leave, but stopped. Turning back she said: "So, what do you think? Do you think we'd still have met if I hadn't become a CSI?"  
  
Grissom looked at her, thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged. "I guess we'll never know."  
  
Eyes locked, they both smiled slowly. After a minute or so Catherine broke the contact, smiled to him once more and walked out of the room.  
  
Grissom watched her leave, and sighed quietly. "But I couldn't imagine my life without you."  
  
THE END 


End file.
